


Coffee and Spice

by Geist



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Blowjobs, Breast Play, Bukkake, Casual Relationships - Freeform, Casual Sex, Coffee, Coffee Shop, Confessions, Cowgirl, Cum Swallowing, Doggy Style, Eavesdropping, F/F, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gentle Sex, Hotdogging, Jealousy, Kissing, Masturbation, Multi, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Programming, Riding, Rough Sex, Scratching, Sexual Content, Spanking, Stripping, Tears, Threesome, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-14 03:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11199717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geist/pseuds/Geist
Summary: Futaba and Akira have settled into an easy working relationship, managing the Leblanc café. But when Futaba accidentally overhears Akira making love to an old acquaintance in Leblanc’s attic, long-buried feelings come roaring back to the surface.





	Coffee and Spice

**Author's Note:**

> All characters are portrayed as 18+

It was another quiet evening at Cafe Leblanc. The last few customers had left, and the mingled scents of curry and coffee hung heavy in the air. Futaba Sakura stepped outside and flipped the sign on the door from open to closed. She lingered for a moment, enjoying the cool autumn air on her face. The city smelled a lot worse than the cafe, but at least it wasn't so stuffy.

She went back inside, to hear the sound of running water and the clink of crockery. Akira Kurusu, who ran the place with her, was already busy getting Leblanc ready for tomorrow. In comfortable silence, with a synchronicity built over long years of friendship, Futaba grabbed a damp cloth and joined him in his work. She wiped down the bar and the tables, dusted the shelves, polished the glasses. Checking the toilets, she ascertained that they weren't too horrible, and that they could wait for a proper cleaning the next morning. Squeezing past Akira at the sink, she opened the fridge and went over its contents, dropping anything past its use by date into a black plastic bag.

"Why don't you head home after you're done with that," Akira said, pausing in the middle of drying off a plate.

"You sure?" Futaba asked.

"Yeah. There's not much left to do. We weren't very busy today, anyway.”

"Got that right. l hope we're doing okay. It feels like things have been slow this whole year."

Akira shrugged. "Sojiro says we're fine. That's good enough for me."

"Yeah, Dad usually has a handle on things."

Futaba finished scouring the fridge, and tied up the bag. "Welp, I‘ll take you up on your offer, then. There's a new ep of Doki Doki Heart Explosion tonight."

"Huh? Since when do you like shoujo anime?"

"Since...since this season started getting really good, is when."

"Okay, if you say so. Time to make like a tree and leave?"

"Time to make like a nuclear reactor and scram."

"Make like a banana and split?"

"You just keep using all my old ones!"

"Well, there's not that many."

"Yes there is. Like...make like an alligator and um - hmm. Maybe not."

They chuckled, and Futaba picked up the rubbish sack, slung it over her shoulder and headed out, bidding Akira farewell. Out on the streets, she dropped the bag into the bin and set off walking.

Back home, Futaba treated herself to a cup ramen. Sojiro, her adoptive father, was out for the evening, and so she didn't have to deal with his disapproving glances and comments about sodium. She boiled some water, peeled the top off the pot and poured it in. Stirring, she gazed reflectively into the pot, watching the water become broth and the noodles soften. Once the rising steam smelled delicious and hearty, she took the cup and a pair of chopsticks into her room.

Setting her meal down on her desk, Futaba woke her computer from sleep, switched on her many monitors and settled back. She drew her legs up, resting her feet on the edge of her chair, and searched for a livestream of her anime. She found one with a few minutes to spare, and while she waited for it to start, she reached out and grabbed her noodles. Slurping them slowly, savouring their salty, MSG and artificial flavouring-packed goodness, she made them last until the strains of her show‘s theme song filtered through her headphones.

For the next half-hour, Futaba revelled in the triumphs and tribulations of a bunch of love-struck college students.

"Marisa, you bitch," she hissed through her teeth as the object of her ire cheated on her boyfriend, and "Nooo, Ryo-kun, you clearly love Takao! Confess to him!"

She sat with one lest noodle dangling from her chopsticks, cold and rubbery, as the episode came to a pivotal, cliffhanging conclusion, just as the previous ten had.

"Epic," she muttered. The stream cut out, a piratical placeholder card popping up in its stead. She glanced at her empty cup and the remaining noodle, shrugged, and slurped it down with a grimace.

It was funny, she pondered, as she returned the cup and her chopsticks to the kitchen. She'd never been into romance stories until now. But this particular series had grabbed her attention, and it hadn't just been the rave reviews that had done it. Something about the characters and their torrid, tortuous affairs spoke to a part of her, and she couldn't figure out exactly what part it was. Though there had been a Ryo/Takao doujinshi she'd read. She knew exactly what part of her that spoke to.

Ah well, She disposed of her cup, rinsed the chopsticks and headed back to her room. Time for some light coding to relax before bed. Settling herself in her chair, she closed the stream and fired up her IDE. She pulled up a tangled mass of code that she'd banged out on a coffee high, and was now busy teasing into something approaching a decent traffic analysis program. Losing herself in hackerspace, she let her fingers fly on autopilot, while her mind filled up with recursive calls and conditional branches, creative solutions and little tangents to be explored later. Nothing made her feel so content as a good programming session, or thrilled her like finding the perfect fusion between art and logic that gave her scripts the edge over all the rest.

Then, something snapped her out of her flow. She tapped out 'lbl', expecting the autocomplete to bring up her list of labelling functions. Instead, something else appeared at the top of them.

"Lblnc_sur?” she said. "What the heck is that?”

Acting on impulse, she opened up a fresh project and typed in a line to call the function. As soon as she ran it, up popped a window. Nothing but three buttons, and a console-style text box below them. The buttons were marked ‘Booths’, ‘Bar’ and 'Attic‘. And suddenly, she knew exactly what it did.

"Oh my god," she said, "I never took the bugs out!”

Years ago, partially out of boredom and partially out of a desire to have, in some way, Sojiro close by even when he was at work, she’d bugged Leblanc. It had been a source of comfort to her, when she was in her dark moods, to listen to her dad chatting with customers, to hear him cooking and serving up coffee. Then, some time after that, a young man named Akira had moved into the attic. And she’d listened as he'd talked with his friends about fascinating things. Stealing hearts, and Phantom Thieves. In a very real way, she'd met him through those bugs. Full of fear and self-hatred, she'd contacted him, Knowing he could save her from her own twisted heart. He did so. She’d joined the Thieves.

And the rest was history, hidden away behind years of high school, university and work. A normal life. Hidden, but never forgotten.

She couldn’t remember why she'd never taken the bugs out, now. Paranoia, perhaps, or a vague idea it'd make Leblanc more secure.

"There's no way they still work," she said to herself, mousing over each button in turn. "Batteries must be super dead. Prolly don't even run on the same network anymore."

Despite her thoughts, she clicked on the button marled ‘Bar’. And, with a deafening screech that made her yelp and clutch at her headphones, there came the noise of an encrypted datastream. It persisted for a second or two before ancient decryption routines kicked in. After that, degraded, crackly, but unmistakable, there were the sounds of Leblanc. The hum of the refrigerator. The faint chatter of the TV. And coffee, coming to the boil as someone, presumably Akira, made himself an evening cup.

He was still there? That was odd. Akira didn't live in the attic any more; he had his own apartment a few blocks away. As far as Futaba knew, the attic was deserted, slowly gathering a layer of dust and reverting to its former use as a storage space.

Regardless, nothing interesting happened. She heard the TV and Akira moving around once or twice, listening while she returned to her project. She was on the verge of disconnecting from the bugs when she heard the bell above Leblanc’s door jingle.

"Cafe's closed," muttered Futaba, almost automatically.

"Cafe's closed,” said Akira‘s digitised voice. Then: "Oh. Good evening, Doctor."

"Still so formal, even after all these years," said a low, feminine voice with the undercurrent of a sigh. "What do I need to do to get you to loosen up, my little guinea pig? I have been developing some excellent muscle relaxants lately."

"I know that voice," said Futaba, frowning. She tapped listlessly at her keys as she tried to figure it out.

"And the side effects?" Akira asked.

The voice laughed. "None, particularly. They're just a little too effective. Everyone who's tried them has turned into a limp, useless puddle until they wear off."

"Could be fun, in the right circumstances."

Another laugh. "So, are you volunteering?"

"How about we decide over coffee?"

"Stimulants instead? I could go for that."

Futaba heard beans being ground, burners lit, water percolating, and a final hiss as the coffee came to the boil. Akira and the mystery voice moved away from the bar, and Futaba switched over to the bug in the booths. As Akira and his guest chatted, something clicked in Futaba's mind.

She knew who this interloper was. Tae Takemi. Yongen-Jaya‘s resident, redeemed, but still somewhat shady doctor. She often came into Leblanc on her breaks, or, more often, whenever she felt like it, since she owned her surgery and her waiting room was rarely bustling. Futaba had served her drinks and meals a few times. But as far as she knew, she'd never come in this late before, She was quite welcome, though, being an old conspirator from the Phantom Thieves days. She and Akira had been quite close, if Futaba recalled correctly.

Futaba‘s frown grew deeper, and the worm of suspicion started burrowing into her thoughts. Had Takemi been into Leblanc this late before? Futaba flashed back to all the times Akira had encouraged her to head home early. Had they all been so he could meet with that floozy? Futaba was quite surprised by the vehemence of the words springing up in her head. She'd never thought of Dr. Takemi as a floozy, before. Never thought of her at all, really. But right now, ‘floozy' felt apt. It was worrying.

Why was Akira meeting with her? Programming forgotten, Futaba sat with her knees drawn up against her chest, hands wrapped around her legs, fighting to an urge to grind her teeth as she listened to Tae and Akira chatter.

"Excellent coffee as always," said Tae. "Sojiro didn‘t make a mistake when he picked you as his apprentice."

"Mmm, true," said Akira. There was a clatter as, presumably, he cleared the cups away. "But this is my own blend. I'm glad you liked it. Normally I'm better at cooking. Futaba handles the coffee."

"And don't you forget it,” Futaba grumbled to herself.

"Well, it was delicious," Tae said. "Mind if I get another taste?"

"With pleasure."

And then there were some sounds that Futaba couldn't quite identify. A sigh, faint sucking, smacking noises, gasps. And with embarrassment, irritation and a cold little fragment of anger, Futaba came to realise that she was hearing Tae and Akira kiss.

"Akira, you bastard!” she said. "So this is why you always want me out of the cafe early."

She didn't know why it was getting to her so much. Territoriality, probably, annoyance that Akira was making the space they shared into his own little love nest, and the fact that he was deceiving her to do it. Whatever. It was his business. She should put it out of her mind. ln fact, she should stop listening right away, delete the program that communicated with the bugs, and tomorrow, gather them up and get rid of them. But step one was to stop listening. This very second. Okay, maybe the very next second. Or the one after that. The very next minute, then.

Futaba, of course, kept listening, transfixed as Akira and Tae's noises grew louder and more passionate. Gasps became pants, sighs became faint, desperate moans, whatever they were doing with each others‘ faces sounded like it was getting messier and sloppier. Futaba could only imagine, and her face reddened as she tried. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. 

Eventually, on the very edge of hearing, Futaba caught Tae's whisper. "Let‘s take this upstairs." Akira murmured his agreement.

Futaba flipped over to the attic bug, and listened with straining ears to the sound of two pairs of feet ascending the creaky stairs.

"Sheesh, couldn‘t you have cleaned up since the last time I came by?" Tae said. "It's like a mausoleum for dust bunnies up here. And you still haven‘t replaced that bed?"

"Can't,” said Akira. "Futaba'd get suspicious."

You're damn right I would! Futaba thought. Wait. Holy shit. Bed. were they really going to-

She should stop listening right now.

She didn’t. The sounds of Akira and Tae kissing returned, interspersed with what Futaba guessed were the thumps of shoes being kicked off and tossed aside, the rustle of clothes being stripped off. Tae's groans, Akira's murmurs, the pop of lips on skin and the smack of a palm clapping against something fleshy. The creak as two bodies settled on a rickety old bed. Laughter, gasps, and a collection of noises that grew increasingly rhythmic.

Hating herself for it, wrestling with guilt, embarrassment and anger, Futaba let one of her hands slip down to her crotch. Experimentally, she touched herself through her shorts, and reeled at the response her body produced. She slumped back, breathing heavily, her tongue rolling over her suddenly dry lips. It was like she'd stepped out of the cold into a boiling sauna, filling her entire being with sticky, cloying heat.

Dropping her legs off her chair, Futaba wrestled her shorts down to her ankles and pressed her fingers to her mound, unable to believe this sudden burst of arousal was real. A quick rub confirmed her panties were already a morass, soaking through as her juices flowed thickly and  
freely. The situation wasn't helped by Tae's rising cries of passion, Akira's throaty grunts or the sound of flesh on flesh, all mingled with the squeal of tortured bedsprings.

Futaba's panties went the way of her shorts. "Fuck, this is so wrong," she muttered, even as she slid her fingers between her slippery, soaking pussy lips, even as she reached up with her thumb and brushed, with the utmost delicacy, her clit, finding it as hard as a little rock and almost quivering in its erection.

She delved into herself, burying her fingers as deep as they'd go, her walls parting like curtains before them. She frigged herself faster and faster, until her hand ached, until her juices were splashing out of her, until she was rocking and squirming and howling at good it felt. Later, she'd thank her lucky stars that Sojiro was out during all of this, but for now she could only revel in her depravity, guilt washed away by lust, anger subsumed in tides of carnal bliss.

Futaba found her fingers a permanent home in her quim, abandoning the effort of flicking them in and out in exchange for constant circulations of her sweet spot. Her juices flowed around them, her walls squeezing down, jumping every time she gave her clit a teasing flick. Her free hand, barely under her conscious control, had found its way up and under her shirt, where she pinched and squeezed her breasts through her bra, tormenting her nipples with twists and tweaks, one, then the other.

Over her headphones, she heard Tae and Akira moving faster, getting louder. They both screamed as they approached their peaks, and Futaba was gratified to know that he, normally such a cool, collected character, was a noisy lover. When she listened close, she could hear them talking to each other to, whispered endearments, advice on what felt good and what didn't, then a gasp of "Yes!" from Akira and a cry of "I'm close!" from Tae.

And in that moment Futaba knew that was what she wanted: to be close. Not just to her orgasm, which she was, but to Akira. She wanted him hanging over her, his cock in her cunt, his hands on her body, lips and teeth and at her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut and put herself in Tae's place, a flash of venomous anger surging through her as she imagined that bitch fucking her Akira. It faded, though, and she was left with just the fantasy, entwined with Akira's lean, muscled body, his kindly eyes boring into hers with the passion that had blazed there when he was a Phantom Thief.

Over in Leblanc, Tae howled, and Akira joined her, so loud that for a moment Futaba wondered if she ripped off her headphones and threw open her window she might hear them in real life. The thought was dashed as her own orgasm hit her, and she threw herself against her chair, head lolling over its back, hips bucking against her hand. Her walls clenched down on her fingers and when she dragged them out there followed the most extraordinary sweetness, as muscles across her body contracted and she was plunged into a powerful aftershock, amplifying the vision-blurring power of her initial climax.

As pleasure went, it was pretty good. Then, though, Futaba heard Tae's self-satisfied purr, and that horrible, gut-twisting anger seized her again.

"Not bad," said Tae. "Up for round two?"

"Always," said Akira.

What happened after that, Futaba didn't know. She slammed her hand - the one that wasn't coated in her own juices - down onto her mouse, and clumsily navigated over to the bug control  
window. She closed it, and there was a brief electronic squawk before her headphones went silent.

Trembling now, overwhelmed by the enormity of what she'd done, Futaba brought that same dry hand to her mouth.

"God," she said, "I'm disgusting.”

A sob wracked her chest, one that was full of shame, longing and repressed desire. And as tears began to flow from trailing down hast the rims of her glasses and over her cheeks, she realised the old anger was back, the sheer rage and frustration that Akira would choose another woman over her. She stood, aimed a savage kick at the leg of her desk and got a stubbed toe for her trouble. Hopping around on one leg, she collapsed onto her bed, grabbed hold of a pillow and hugged it to herself. She dissolved into a sobbing fit.

"Bastard!" she growled into her pillowcase. "l hate him! I..."

But she never quite settled her mind on what she thought about him. Futaba, though she tried hard to exercise these days, was still not the hardiest of people, and she fell into a fitful, uneasy sleep for the rest of the night.

She woke early the next morning, feeling gross: puffy in the face and unpleasantly sweaty down below. Her fears were confirmed when she dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror stared at her with red eyes, underlined with baggy eyelids and surrounded by dark circles. Her hair was all a-tangle and had an unhealthy, greasy sheen to it. She groaned.

Robotically, Futaba went about the business of cleaning herself up. She was half-tempted to call in sick, let Akira do all the work today. Maybe he could beg Takemi to help him out, if he liked her so much. See how well she could brew coffee, hah! She spat a gobbet of toothpaste into the sink, almost expecting it to burn through the porcelain with her bile.

In the shower, Futaba analysed herself. Her anger had coalesced into something cold overnight, and nestled in close to her heart, turning it hard and brittle. She feared that if she didn't go out today, it'd crack, and all the work she'd done on herself these many years would he lost. But what if seeing Akira shattered it entirely?

She thumped the wall and sniffled. It was all so much simpler when they‘d been the Phantom Thieves, with nothing to worry about but fighting for their lives against demons of the soul and the forces of human corruption. Futaba slumped, and let the water patter down around her until it ran cold.

Once she‘d toweled herself off and brushed her hair, Futaba conceded that she was looking and feeling a little better. A quick glass of water saw the redness fading from her eyes, though there wasn't much to be done about the residual puffiness. She opted for a couple of smears of concealer, and a lick of mascara to give the impression that the dark circles were intentional.

The makeup was entirely for her own peace of mind, of course, and certainly not because she wanted Akira to kick himself when he saw what he'd missed. She packed away her cosmetics, looked at herself in the mirror again. Well. It'd do.

Wrapping a towel around herself, Futaba padded back to her bedroom. She dragged on some clothes, slipped her headphones around her neck and headed for the porch. Once she'd laced up her shoes, she took a deep breath and went out into the world. 

The usual Yongen-Jaya faces were setting up their shops and stalls, and a steady stream of people filed their way towards the station, commuting to the wider city for work or school. Crowds didn't bother Futaba the way they used to, thanks, she begrudgingly admitted, to Akira's help. Still, she tended to keep her head down and her music up while she was out on the streets, even for the relatively short walk from her home to Leblanc. 

Futaba reached the cafe, unlocked it, went inside and started preparing for the day. She turned on the lights, opened the blinds and fired up the stove, grabbing the ingredients for a quick breakfast curry. Since she tended to arrive earlier than Akira, she usually cooked enough for both of them, but today she made enough for herself and herself alone.

Akira arrived half an hour later, sniffing the scents of spice and coffee appreciatively.

"Good morning," he said, just like he did every day.

"Mornin'," Futaba grunted back, through a mouthful of rice. She eyed him balefully as he went behind the counter and strolled over to the little kitchen area, and took a sip of coffee to stifle her snigger at his face when he looked into the curry pot and found it wanting.

"Uh, are we running low on curry stuff?" he asked. "I could run to the store quickly."

"We're fine," she said.

"Oookay."

He shrugged, washed out the pot and began the business of making his own breakfast.

And that was how it went for the rest of the morning. When Akira talked about something work-related, she answered him in monosyllables, when he tried to engage her in personal conversation, she pointedly ignored him. Every time she looked at his face, anger rose inside her, and so she spent most of her time at the sink, washing up whatever he set down next to her with every indication that she was too engrossed to spend any time on him. When he had to cook a customer's order, putting him far too close to her for comfort, she slipped away and restocked the coffee beans, with the result that each and every jar was full to the brim.

They went on like this until just after the lunchtime rush. Akira, putting coffee cups and saucers back on the shelf, looked around to check there weren't any customers, and in a low voice said to her:

"Futaba, come on. What's the matter? You're acting really strange."

"You know exactly what the matter is," she muttered, through gritted teeth, her back turned to him.

"I really don't."

Futaba clenched her fists so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. "You do. You - you..."

She didn't know what to say next. 

On one of the stove's burners, an espresso maker came to the boil. Futaba stood, trembling, on the verge of hysterics. She could feel it, her world crumbling around her. She'd never be able to tell him. All her resentment and jealousy was going to fester inside her forever, twisting her heart into something horrible, and there were no Phantom Thieves to fix it this time, no miracle Metaverse cure. As the cafe began to spin around her, fate intervened.

The bell over the door jingled. Through a veil of unshed tears, Futaba saw who the intruder was.

"Her!" she shrieked.

The espresso maker vented a jet of steam. Akira hurried over to take it off the stove. He turned off the burner, while Futaba stood smouldering, mouthing words that she was too angry to actually vocalise in the newcomer’s direction.

"Me?" said Tae Takemi.

"Tae," Akira said, carefully interposing himself between her and Futaba. "This is kind of a bad time. Maybe you should-"

"No, she should stay!" Futaba said, bunching up her fists again. "That's what you'd like, isn't it?"

"Futaba, what-"

"You slept with her!"

She'd scored a hit; the shock was visible on Akira's face. On a roll now, Futaba continued:

"You brought her here, to my father's cafe, and you - you fucked her upstairs, like some cheap whore."

"That's a little personal," Tae muttered, but Futaba wasn't to be dissuaded.

"How dare you! And you only like her because she's tall, a-and she's got-" Futaba made curvaceous motions with her hands in the general area of her chest "-and-" More charades, this time around her hips.

"Futaba," said Akira, keeping his voice perfectly level in a way that only infuriated her more. "How exactly do you know I slept with Dr. Takemi?"

"Because...!" Too late, Futaba realised she'd painted herself into a corner. She sagged somewhat. "I picked up the bugs last night. You know, the ones from...before."

Akira sighed, and pinched his brow. "You bugged us?" he said, annoyance creeping into his voice. "Listen, you don't get to stand there and be mad at us for something we thought we were doing in private. It's none of your business if we use the cafe. Who cares?"

"I care! You know this place is special to me. And anyway, you, and her, and - and - it's not FAIR!" She shouted the last word, and, hating her petulance, dissolved into tears, shoulders shaking as she fought to control her sobs, hot droplets rolling down her cheeks and dripping from the end of her nose.

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around her, and she jumped.

"Hey," Tae said. "Calm down."

Later, Futaba mused, if anyone else had said that to her she'd have hauled off and slapped them as hard as she could. But the instant Tae spoke, all the fight drained out of her, and only her sadness and humiliation remained. Tae passed her a handkerchief, and held her until she'd cried all her tears.

Akira went outside and flipped the cafe's sign to closed. He made a fresh batch of coffee while Tae sat with Futaba in one of the booths. Silently, he put down two cups in front of them, and stood back, nervously hovering nearby.

"Futaba," Tae said, taking a sip, "this isn't just about me and Akira, ah, sleeping here, is it?"

"It doesn't matter," said Futaba, her voice flat and defeated. She ignored her cup.

"Drink your coffee while it's hot. You need perking up."

Reluctantly, Futaba took a swig, and recognised the flavour immediately. The blend she and Akira had created together. It was delicious, as always. And it only made things worse. She sank further into her gloom.

Tae snapped her out of it with one question. "Do you love Akira, Futaba?"

Futaba snapped her head up. "What!? N-n-no! Of course not. And even if I did..."

"Even if you did?"

In an inaudible mumble, Futaba said: "He wouldn't take a second glance at me."

Tae didn't press her to say it any louder. Skipping over it for the moment, she said: "I think you do love him. It's the only reason you'd get this angry. And-"

She glanced up at Akira, and Futaba followed her gaze. Almost imperceptibly, Akira nodded.

"Akira loves you."

"No. That's not true."

"It is."

"How do you know?"

Tae took another dainty sip of coffee. Futaba ground her teeth. If she was doing this on purpose...

Tae spoke before Futaba's anger flared up again. "Because he told me. One night, he was falling asleep - yes, sorry, you can probably guess why we were in bed - and he said, and these were his exact words 'I wish I could tell Futaba...'"

"And?"

"And then he fell asleep. But I asked him next morning, and he said it outright. He loves you, Futaba. And you would not believe how often I've told him to tell you."

"But, you two are-"

"Entirely casual." Tae spread her hands and shrugged. "He's fun, and I like him, but if you do get together, and you want to be exclusive, well, I won't get in your way."

"This is too much." Futaba sat, digesting everything, and then remembered that there were three people involved. She turned to Akira and said "Well? Don't just stand there like some - like some kind of glitched out NPC. Is it true?"

"It is," Akira said. There was a strange hoarseness to his voice that Futaba had only heard once before, when he was leaving Tokyo to go back to his hometown after all their adventures were over. "I love you, Futaba."

She stood, and took a step towards him. "You...love me?"

"Yes."

"God, I-" Her heart was hammering in her chest now. She took another step, and he towards her, as though the red string of fate was tightening around them both.

Another. He was breathing heavily too, and she could feel it, warm, sweet. Closer. She opened her mouth. He opened his.

And she said, very clearly, right to his face: "Idiot."

His mouth closed. "Uh?"

"All this time! All this time and you never said a damn thing! We could have been together for like, forever, but now we've got to start right here and go through dates and fights and...how could you not tell me?"

"I didn't think you were interested! And anyway, how come you didn't say anything?"

"I didn't think...oh." Futaba's arms dropped to her sides. For the first time in over twelve hours, a smile appeared on her face. "Heh. I guess I'm not as smart as I thought I was."

"I think we're both pretty dumb right now," said Akira, quietly.

Tae's cup clinked on its saucer. "I'm not saying anything, but..."

"Look, I - I need some time to think about this," Futaba said. "Can you handle Leblanc on your own for a while?"

"Sure," Akira said. "Take all the time you need. Just...where will you go."

"I don't know." She took off her apron, draped it over a barstool. "Just, somewhere."

The bell jingled as she walked out the door.

In fact Futaba went straight to the place she always went when the world became too much for her, which was her own bedroom. There, she drew the curtains, the galaxy of phosphorescent stars glued to them glowing in the half-darkness. She fired up her rig, jammed her headphones over her ears and loaded a playlist of mindless, pounding techno. Opening her IDE, she began to type.

This was ur-programming: no plan, no goal. Futaba splashed lines across the screen and built mathematical-logical towers from the raw firmament of code. Numbers squeezed themselves through tortuous equations, spiralling down through intricate, fractal recursions, asymptotically approaching the values she specified until they reached an arbitrary level of closeness and came rocketing back up through the stack, spilling themselves into a black-and-green terminal window. Futaba tweaked and expanded and refactored, pushing her targets higher and higher until her machine’s fans whirred and its memory creaked at the seams. Overflow threatened, so she switched to another module and pieced together a visualiser out of scraps of old and discarded code, papering the gaps together with her usual effortless flair, until she had something that scribed her nothing-program’s formulations in scintillating, ever shifting lines.

Just like she was filling her computer’s memory and making it spin its cycles on endless maths, Futaba aimed to overload her logical mind with the demands of programming. Possessed as she was of vast reserves of logical mind, it was a tall order, but she managed it. Meanwhile, her music sparked her limbic system, and her subconscious churned its way through her emotions. The hours flowed by, her body became stiff, her eyes dry, her ears hot from the headphones. Her program metastasised, tendrils crawling kraken-like into whatever fields she could think of: population statistics, fluid dynamics, esoteric, half remembered physics, all feeding back into the main body, adding shapes and colours to the visualiser.

Futaba added one last semi-colon to the end of one last line, and stopped. Her fugue passed. She blinked, fingers trembling over her keyboard, and drew back her hands. Suddenly, her sparkling architecture was a tangled mass of spaghetti.

"Huh,” she said. "I wrote this?” She couldn’t hear herself. Right. Headphones. She pulled them off, wincing at the ringing in her ears.

"Definitely a few dead hair cells there,” she muttered, rubbing her earlobes. Ah well. That was why they made hearing aids.

She peered at her computer’s clock. Holy shit. 9PM. Akira would be closing up Leblanc right about now. With a crackle of joints, she stood, and realised, in a moment of perfect clarity, that she’d come to a decision. 

Futaba grabbed her keys, and her phone, barely registering the message that she’d missed five calls. Eschewing everything else, even her headphones, she dashed out of her room. And stopped, on her way to the front porch. The television was on in the living room. Sojiro was back.

She’d worried Akira already. She wasn’t going to worry her father.

"Hey dad,” she said, poking her head into the living room.

"Oh, hey,” he said, from his place on the sofa. "I didn’t realise you were back.”

"I left work early. I was having kind of a Futaba day.”

He frowned. They both knew her neuroses hadn’t been completely banished, just tamed, made mostly harmless and sometimes useful. "You feeling better now?” he asked. "Have you eaten?”

"Yeah,” she said, then admitted: "and no, I haven’t. But I’m headed back to the cafe, I’ll grab something there. Akira wants to do some stock-taking.”

"Okay. Just so long as you’re up to it.”

"I am. I’ll see you later. Tomorrow, maybe. If we work really late I’ll crash in the attic rather than come home.”

He smiled. "You’re taking good care of that place. Just don’t work too hard.”

"I won’t. And thanks.”

"Love you.”

"Love you too, dad.”

As Futaba turned away, she found she had to reach up and wipe a tear from her eye. Lying to her dad felt too much like the bad parts of the old days. But the truth would have taken too long, and for all his excellent qualities, she didn’t think Sojiro would be much help. He was considerate and accommodating when it came to emotions, but not so great at counselling people through them. He’d hear the whole story eventually, she promised herself that. Right now, she needed to see Akira.

Outside, she was too focused to worry about the few nighttime stragglers out on the streets, and kept her head up, walking quickly, purposefully. Within two minutes, she stood outside the door to Leblanc. She took a breath, opened it.

The bell rang, and she saw Akira jump up from his place at the bar. 

"Futaba!" he said. "Are you okay? I called..." 

"I'm fine," she said, waving a hand at him. "Sorry I didn't pick up. I've been figuring things out."

"I'm really sorry I didn't say anything ‘til now. If I'd known how you felt, I'd have-" 

"Hey, Akira?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up, and come here."

This time, as Futaba‘s face approached Akira‘s, she didn't call him an idiot. Rather, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, She opened her mouth, and in the brief moment before she shut her eyes, she saw him parting his lips too.

They united. Futaba's heart hammered, driven into a frenzy by her excitement. She savoured every last sensation: the warmth and softness of Akira's lips against hers, the slipperiness of his tongue working its way into her mouth, twining around hers. He closed his arms around her back, squeezing her tight, and she joyously returned his embrace, coiling her leg around his, seeking to press as much of herself against him as she could. He smelled good too, she realised, coffee and spice, like Leblanc, plus the faint hint of sweat earned through hard work, and something that was entirely his own.

Futaba almost cried again when they parted. "That was awesome," she said.

"I'm sorry I made you wait," said Akira.

"Aww. You two are adorable."

"Holy freakin' shit!" Futaba yelped and wheeled around to face whoever had spoken. And there in the corner booth, empty coffee cup before her, was Dr. Takemi.

"Jeez!” Futaba said, clutching her chest. "I thought you people were supposed to stop people from having heart attacks, not make them happen.”

"Sorry," said Tae. "I came back after I closed the clinic. Felt bad about getting between you and Akira. I would have left, but, well you came onto him pretty quickly."

Futaha smiled at that. "Yeah. I guess l did."

"It’s no surprise. You've waited long enough." Tae stood, and walked over to them. "I'll leave you alone now."

To Futaba‘s complete surprise, Tae reached out and stroked her cheek. "You deserve him, you know? You're a very pretty girl. Like I said, I promise I won't get between you, but well, if you're ever in the mood for something different, call me. I'm very open minded." She hefted her bag over her shoulder and turned away.

Futaba couldn't believe she was going to ask what she next asked. "Wait," she said. Tae turned back.

"Umm, I think l know what I want to do with Akira next."

"I can imagine," said Tae, drily.

"And well, I've read, ah, a lot. Watched too." She blushed a deep crimson, cheeks clashing with her hair. "But l uh, l don’t think, it's not like, well, I know what happens, obviously-"

"You need someone to help you through your first time."

"Yes! That!”

"I can assure you Akira knows exactly what he's doing."

Futaba turned to glance at him. He was absolutely poker faced.

"But he's not...he's not a woman. You - you're a doctor."

"l dabble."

"You must have dealt with things like this before, right?"

Tae raised an eyebrow. "Futaba," she said, "are you asking what I think you're asking?"

"Mffflwmfl.”

"Sorry?"

Futaba balled up her fists, took a breath and blurted out: "CanyoubetherewithmewhenAkiraandmeyouknowwhat."

If Tae was shocked by the request, she gave absolutely no indication of it. "Some people might say that a couple‘s first time together should be an intimate, private moment."

"Are you one of them?" Futaba still had her fists clenched, and Tae's playful manner was starting to make her feel a little bit combative.

"No," said Tae, with a grin. "I could tell you some stories about some couples I know - well, a few of them are covered by doctor-patient confidentiality. What do you think, Akira? Would you be okay with me joining you?"

"If that's what Futaba wants," he said, rather more meekly than usual, "no objections here."

"No. Somehow I didn't think there would be."

Futaba hugged Akira, holding him as he kissed her forehead. "Thank you," she murmured into his chest. "This'll make things easier for me, I think.”

"Just so long as you're okay with it," he whispered back, stroking her hair. "We can stop or do something different whenever you say.”

"I know," she said, and released him, stepping back. "Alright then!" she said, addressing both Tae and Akira with much more of her usual pep. "Are we doing this or what?"

Smiling, Tae and Akira took one of her arms each and led her up the stairs.

The attic was more of a warehouse than a bedroom these days. Canvas sacks of rice and coffee beans piled up against the walls didn‘t exactly favour a boudoir ambiance. Still, the bed was there, which was what mattered, and after Akira clicked on a reading lamp that sat on his old desk the place was bathed in a soft, moody glow.

Akira gave Futaba's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Here we go,” he said. "Ready?"

"Yeah," she replied, not daring to say anything else.

This time, when they kissed, Akira held her by the waist and lifted her, and she, after some aimless flailing, managed to wrap her legs around him, letting him slide his hands under her thighs and keep her steady while she clung to him. She felt herself blushing again; parts of his hands were pressing against her bum, and other, more intimate parts of them both were close together, no matter how many layers of clothing they were hidden under. And they'd be even closer soon.

Nevertheless, the meeting of their mouths was as fine as it had been the last time, and Futaba lost herself in it. She clutched his shoulders, loving the way the muscle in them rippled and shifted as he adjusted his grasp on her. He reached up, brushed the curtain of her hair to one side - wait, how was he doing that? He was still holding onto her legs.

Then a pair of lips touched the back of Futaba's neck, and she almost ended a promising night with a trip to the emergency room. She stopped herself from biting down on her and Akira's tongues at the very last second, reminding herself that Tae was there. She hadn't set any particular boundaries on what Tae could do to her, but neither had she expected her to take such an active interest. But it was nice, to be kissed on both sides. Exciting even, as Tae moved a fraction lower and nibbled at the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. Tae even dared to put a hand on Futaba's side and trail it slowly down, over her hip, and if Akira was shy about squeezing her arse, the good doctor certainly wasn't. Futaba almost had another tongue-biting accident.

Another minute, and Futaba, legs starting to quiver, uncrossed them from around Akira's waist. Gently, he set her back down and gave her another forehead kiss. 

"You're so beautiful," he said to her.

"You too," she said. "Um, not beautiful. The other one. Handsome. My handsome-" the word caught in her throat as she tried to say it, and she stuttered it out "b-boyfriend." 

She saw, amazingly, a flash of red in his cheeks. "Yeah," he said. "I guess I am, huh? And you're my beautiful girlfriend."

Boom, game over, Futaba dead, slain by a single word. Through the chaos of her scrambled thoughts she heard him saying something else. 

"I've...never really had a partner before. Not properly." 

"Seriously?" said Futaba. "You?" 

"Just me," interjected Tae, "and a couple of other lucky women." 

"Sorry," Futaba said, though she wondered what exactly she was apologising for. "I didn't mean-" 

"No need. Casual, remember?"

"Right. And how about us?"

"Us?"

"Want to be casual too?"

Tae laughed. "You're a strange girl. Blushing and stammering over your new boyfriend, then straight up asking me whether I want to be fuckbuddies." 

"Well?"

Tae reached out and deftly plucked Futaba's glasses off her face, reaching behind her to lay them on the desk. Through softened vision, Futaba watched Tae grip her shoulders, and allowed herself to be steered back towards Akira. 

"Pay some more attention to your man," Tae said, "and then we'll discuss it." 

"I uh, guess we should move on," Futaba said to Akira. In a voice she instantly knew failed at being seductive, she asked: "Want to see more of me?" 

"Definitely," he said, and stepped forward a little too eagerly. He pressed a kiss on her cheek, and his hands found the hem of her singlet. 

While he slowly rolled her shirt up over her stomach, she felt slim fingers on her thigh, then lips on the back of it, moving down jump by jump until they reached the pit of her knee. Tae certainly liked to kiss odd parts of her, and Futaba briefly wondered whether there were any other parts she'd be interested in putting her mouth on. 

"You have lovely legs, Futaba," said Tae, "and I say that as someone who knows nice legs. Is that why you wear shorts so often?" 

"Not really. I just wear 'em cos they're comfortable. Except in winter, obviously."

"I see." She was toying with the laces of Futaba's combat boots, trying to figure out the intricate pattern of knots they'd been tied with. Knots had been one Futaba's special interests, for a while. She stood still and let Tae work. 

"Did you mean it, when you said you wanted to be casual with Tae?" Akira murmured to Futaba. He had her shirt far up enough to reveal her svelte belly now, pulling it up with tantalising slowness to prolong the anticipation. 

"Yup," she responded. "If it's cool with you. I mean, we can still be exclusive. It's just - feels like I've waited too long. And now I want to do everything. 100% the game."

"It's very cool with me," he said. "And there's plenty of time." He tugged her shirt up another inch. "Can I ask-?" 

"Yeah?"

"When did you realise you were into women?"

She shrugged. "A while ago. Just after I met you, actually. I think it was hanging out with Ann and the others that made me realise."

"I see." 

Going for broke, Akira lifted Futaba's shirt up and over head her head. She raised her arms, letting him pull it off, unveiling her small, perky breasts, neatly constrained by a simple sports bra.

Tae managed to unlace Futaba's boot, and at her urging, Futaba picked up her foot and balanced on one leg, Akira supporting her, while Tae wiggled it off. In holding her, Akira took the opportunity to brush his hand over Futaba's chest. She gasped at his touch, amazed by how sensitive her boobs felt when it was someone else fondling them. Looking down, she saw the outline of her nipples through the stretchy fabric of her bra, stuff and proud. Akira saw them too, and with a smirk, he cupped a boob in his palm and drew his thumb slowly over its peak, bending it to the side until it slipped from beneath his thumb tip and bounced back into place. Futaba's breathy squeak was all the encouragement he needed to tease her tits some more, and he took hold of the other one, trapping both of her nipples between his thumbs and his forefingers. He pinched and rolled them, driving yet more whimpers from Futaba's mouth. She closed her eyes, tingling warmth radiating out from those two sensitive buds, feeling them tighten further as Akira tweaked them into ever greater erection. She scarcely noticed when Tae loosened the laces on her remaining boot and yanked it off her foot.

She did however notice when Tae rose up behind her and undid her bra's catch. Next, she flicked down Futaba's shoulder straps, and Akira, catching on, hooked a finger under the join between the two cups and tugged it down. Futaba eeped, and tried to cross her arms across her chest, getting terribly tangled up in the process. Gentle hands took hold of her wrists, pulled them away from her body, while others freed her from her bra and finished the process of baring her to Akira's adoring gaze.

She let her arms drop, baring herself to Akira's adoring gaze. 

"Gorgeous," he whispered. 

"Huh? No, I'm totally flat."

"Petite," said Tae, snuggling up behind Futaba and kissing her shoulder. "And you've got the cutest nipples." 

Futaba looked away shyly. She had to admit she did like the way her breasts came to their delicate little points, pretty pink and surrounded by the puffy, rosy-pale circles of her areolae. Akira loved them too, if the enthusiasm with which he took hold of her boobs again, sinking his fingers into her soft, spare flesh. And if it had felt good when he'd groped her through her bra, skin on skin contact was a million times better. Futaba groaned, thrusting out her chest, eagerly pushing her tits into Akira's grasp.

Tae folded her arms over Futaba's stomach, tracing idle circles around her navel. She took a step forward, incidentally making Futaba move a little closer to Akira. He too shuffled in towards her, and Futaba found herself sandwiched between two giants, completely unable to escape the affection they were pouring onto her. She leaned back and her head pressed against something soft, which she realised a split second later were Tae‘s breasts. Before she could say or do anything Akira crouched down for another kiss, linking his hands behind her.

Tae took over where he left off, and slithered her fingers up Futaba's body, making a beeline for her chest. Futaba moaned into Akira‘s mouth when Tae's hands made contact, overwhelmed by their skill and softness, and the way she managed to squeeze and fondle her little tits in all the ways she liked best.

There was a distinct wetness building up in the confines of Futaba's shorts, seeping its way through her panties. She'd have liked to have said it was sweat, but she knew better. Plus, the tickly heat in her privates left no room for interpretation. Wild fantasies started to flicker through her mind: two pairs of hands feeling around for the source of that wetness, spreading it open, pressing deep inside.

Not such a wild fantasy. Distracted by the kiss, which was almost certainly Akira’s intent, Futaba didn't feel his hand slipping down her back until it dipped into the tight confines of her shorts, squeezing her arse through her panties.

"Hey!" Futaba yelped, breaking away from their clinch. "What do you think you're doing down there?"

"Don't you like it?" Akira pressed down harder, and she felt each one of his fingers tightening against her bum.

"Nnnn...I didn't say that."

"May I join in?" Tae asked, and without waiting for an answer pushed her own hand into Futaba's shorts, taking over the other cheek.

"Mmmm," Futaba ‘protested’ biting down on her lip.

"Oh? have we found a weak spot?"

"You like having your butt rubbed, Futaba?" Akira said.

She scowled at him. "There's better places to rub, you know?"

Akira laughed. "Someone's eager." He gave her bottom a gentle pinch. Futaba bared her teeth at him. "Okay, okay,” he said, chuckling again. "Here I come."

He slid his hand out from her shorts and trailed it slowly over her hip, placing his palm flat over her belly button, fingertips just below it, fingers pointed down. She took a breath, clenched her fists, steeling herself, determined not to cry out, not to embarrass herself. Then Akira's fingers went gliding over her mound, his palm, the heel of it, and he cupped her pussy, grinding the polyblend of her shorts and the cotton of her panties against a place that, she realised, had been begging for attention.

Her legs buckled. She cried out. "Ah! Akira!"

"Feels good?" he asked, fingers circling, feeling out the contours of her lips and the slit between them.

"Sooo good," she moaned, and took hold of Akira's wrist, urging him to go further, to press harder.

While Akira explored her front, Tae was busy with Futaba's rear. Worming her hand deeper into Futaba's shorts, she insinuated her fingers between her thighs, and Futaba gasped as she felt them touch her through the insubstantial fabric of her panties.

"You're wet," Tae whispered to her, and proved it by skimming her fingertips across slippery cotton, working it bit by bit between Futaba's tender lips. Futaba moaned out loud as a rush of juices escaped her.

"H-hey Akira," said Futaba, "You're not going to let her beat you to the final boss, are you?" 

“Not a chance," he replied, and dragged his hand up over her mons, pressing down hard.

She let loose a ragged squeal that tapered off into a long, lusty moan as he pushed his hand under her shorts and beneath her panties. And there it was, her lover's hand against her bare quim, feeling, somehow, far more real and present than her own ever could, every joint and crease magnified into something incredible. He started to rub, parting her petals, sinking into her silken core, and she shut her eyes, losing herself in the sensations bubbling up through her belly. When she came back, he was curling his digits into her, squeezing them through her tight entrance. She almost cried with joy, flinging her arms around Akira and holding him as closely as she could.

When that first transcendent moment of love and trust had passed, and all that was left was mere (although very good) pleasure, Futaba heard Tae's voice again.

"Try touching him," she muttered. "He must be needing it pretty badly right about now."

"Oh! R-right." Futaba kicked herself mentally. She'd been so enraptured by Akira's touch that she'd forgotten he might have desires of his own. Well, she could fix that. Focussing through her haze of bliss, she put her hand on his stomach, just like he'd done for her, and brought it down.

She knew the instant she'd found his cock. It was impossible to miss. Huge and tumescent beneath his trousers, it must have been straining his underwear to its breaking point.

"It's hard!" she blurted, as her fingers closed around it, and her inner critic shook its head at her naivety.

"Because you're too sexy," he muttered back. She gave it a rub, and he gasped.

"Ohh, that's good. Keep going."

Emboldened, Futaba stroked up and down, imagining she could feel his shaft throbbing even through his clothes, wondering what he looked like completely naked.

Then, before she knew it, she was the naked one. Akira pulled his fingers from her snatch, slid his hand out of her shorts and popped open their fastenings, tugging them down over her thighs and letting them drop the rest of the way. Likewise, Tae hooked her fingers into the hem of Futaba's panties and did the same.

"Ah? Ehh!" Futaba coloured and yanked her hand back from Akira‘s crotch, aiming to cover herself. Then, she stopped. Smiled. Slowly, she spread her arms. Akira stepped back to take in every inch of her lithe body. She watched his eyes, knowing exactly where he was looking: her pert breasts, her slim, boyish hips, her glistening pussy, with its tuft of flame-red pubic hair. And she saw herself as he saw her, not short, or skinny, or any of the other things she'd called herself in the mirror, but genuinely desirable. The idea astounded her.

"How many times have I told you you're beautiful tonight?" Akira said, his voice hushed.

"Not enough, I think."

"You're beautiful."

"Once more?"

"You're beautiful."

Futaba grinned. "Okay. I believe you." She turned to Tae, who'd stepped back from her shortly after Akira had. "How about you, Doc? Can I get a second opinion?"

"My, you're quite compliment junkie, aren't you?" Tae said. "But yes, it is my considered medical opinion that you are, in fact, a gorgeous young woman who puts this old lady to shame."

"Ooh yeah, that's the stuff."

Tae turned to Akira. "We may have bitten off more than we can chew, here."

"Futaba's worth it," he said, and she blushed.

"I can assure you that your boyfriend isn't hideous, either," said Tae. "Care to even things up a little?"

"Go for it," said Futaba, casually, as if she wasn't aching to see what Akiru was packing.

With remarkable swiftness, Tae circled around, reached for Akira's trousers, unfastened and unzipped them. Holding the waistband, he kicked off his loafers, then let his pants drop, stepping out of them and kicking them away. Futaba let her gaze travel up his shapely legs, admiring his fine smooth muscles and his delicate black hairs, up until she took in his tight boxers and - wow. Akira must have heard her gasp. With a devious smirk he slid his thumbs under his waistband and began to slowly lever his underpants down.

His cockhead came into view first: dark, purple, peeking out from beneath his foreskin and, Futaba saw, covered in a pearlescent slick of his precum. Her inner walls clenched down of their own accord, and she squeezed her thighs together as a bead of wetness came dribbling out of her pussy and rolled down her leg. If Akira noticed, he pretended not to, and kept on lowering his shorts.

Behind him, Tae nibbled his ear and unbuttoned his shirt. Futaba only had eyes for one part of him, though later she decided that she liked his well-formed chest and the faint contours of his abs a great deal. For now, though, she salivated as he revealed the rest of his prick's head in all its swollen glory. Then, beneath a thick, fleshy ridge, he came to his shaft, and Futaba saw the lovely blue veins that traced their way up it, and the soft, darker flesh running up its underside. Next, his balls, hanging loose and heavy in their sack. which Futaba noticed, was completely -

"Shaved?" she said with a giggle. "I wouldn't have expected it." Words seemed to fail the suddenly sheepish Akira, so Tae explained for him as she loosened last button on his shirt.

"My idea," she said. "You would not have believed the mess he had down there before." And indeed, the rest of his pubes were quite a bit neater than most of the naked men the internet had previously exposed Futaba to.

"I like it," Futaba said. "It looks nice."

Akira shrugged off his shirt, with Tae's assistance. She dropped it on the floor and came back to Futaba, placing a comforting hand on her back.

"It's...he's big," said Futaba, nervously twirling a strand of her hair through her fingers. "Will it - you know - fit?"

"Oh, it'll fit," said Tae. "I've attended births, you'd be amazed how much-"

"Please don't talk about medical stuff while we're naked," Akira said, and Futaba nodded in fervent agreement.

"Sorry. Occupational hazard. But, uh, speaking of, Futaba." She whispered her next question. "You're on the pill, right?"

"Yes," Futaba muttered back. "For cramps, and well, just in case."

"Okay then. We don't have anything to worry about." Aloud, Tae continued. "And what do you want to do next?"

"I'd, uh, quite like to try sucking it."

"I like the sound of that," said Akira, with a grin. "Uh, hold on one second." He darted over to the bed and grabbed a pillow, returned and dropped laid it on the floor in front of him.

"Thanks," said Futaba. "So, I just, kind of..."

She sank to her knees, coming face to face with Akira's cock. Short she might have been, but she found that when she was kneeling, it was at perfect mouth height. It looked even bigger from this angle, and far more intimidating.

"Take it slow," said Akire, reassuringly, "no need to rush."

"Try licking it a little, first," Tae suggested.

Futaba nodded. She curled the fingers of one hand around the base of Akira's prick, bending it up slightly. Leaning in, shuffling closer, she smelt it, and decided she could stand to sample at least a little bit of it. She stuck out her tongue and licked.

It tasted of skin, mostly, and slightly of sweat. She shrugged. She'd been expecting something more mind blowing, or possibly gross. Still, she liked the way it felt under her tongue, hot and hard, with his pulse twitching in the thick swellings of his veins. Emboldened, she went in for another lap, a nice, long slow one this time, all the way from the base to just below where his foreskin terminated.

Down she went again, not quite ready to taste his fluids, but she heard him moan anyway. She smooched her way back up his length. Shutting her eyes, she tentatively took a lick at his cockhead. 

Akira gasped, shuddered, and Futaba realised how much fun she could have with this most sensitive part of him. He didn't taste too bad, either. A little salty, maybe. Bitter, even, probably from all the coffee he drank. It could have been a lot worse. 

"Mweheheh," she cackled. "I've found your weak spot." 

"Oh no," he said, totally deadpan. "I hope you don't...lick it some more."

Which was precisely what Futaba proceeded to do. She swished her tongue over his cockhead, to and fro, feeling it out, even leaning in to give its tip a kiss once in a while. Wrapping her hand around Akira's shaft, she gave it a couple of slow jerks and discovered how beautifully his foreskin stretched and slid over his glans. 

Peeling it down so that it bunched up beneath his cockhead, Futaba finally got up the courage to open her mouth and take him between her lips. Futaba immediately fell in love with cocksucking. The feeling of his prick against her tongue, drooling salty precum over it. The way his sheer girth stretched her lips. And to top it all off, he reached down and gently tangled his fingers in her hair, not to guide her or make her hurry, just to let her know she was doing a good job. His groans, though, as she started moving, were more than proof of that. Applying her analytical mind to the problem of his pleasure, Futaba quickly figured out what he did and didn't like, how to hollow her cheeks and suck hard, how to generate gobbets of spit for maximum sloppiness, when to dab him with her tongue and when to give him a swirling slobbery lick.

"Wow, she's really getting into it," said Tae, as Futaba started to bob her head back and forth, taking Akira deeper with every forward motion. She stood by Akira's side, watching Futaba's efforts with a hand on his shoulder.

"Y-yeah," Akira said. "You're so good at that, Futaba." She pulled away from his cock for a moment, a strand of spittle connecting it to her lips, gave him a smile and a thumbs up, then returned to her work.

She went faster, ever deeper, keeping a tight seal around his shaft, turning her head every so often to let him grind against her cheek. She wanted to taste every inch of him, to bury her nose in his neatly trimmed pubes. She'd seen pornstars throat cocks a thousand times before. How hard could it be?

Her hubris got the better of her. As she forced herself forward, Akira's cock hit the back of her mouth. Her gag reflex triggered, and a wave of nausea overtook her.

"Urk!" She reeled back, prick slipping from her lips, and coughed and spluttered while Tae and Akira looked on, concerned.

"Are you okay?" Akira asked her, after she'd recovered and gulped a few lungfuls of air.

"Ugh. I'm fine. Just went a bit too fast. Sorry. I guess I won't be deepthroating you tonight."

"It's fine. We could stop there, if you want."

"Hey, I'm not that fragile!" She grabbed his cock again, giving it a few quick jerks. "I'm gonna get that jizz out of you!"

"Aah, okay, okay! I believe you. Well, what you were doing before was great."

"And I'll show you how to take him properly another time," said Tae, with a wink.

Futaba nodded, and wasting no further breath, slurped her way up the length of Akira's prick and popped it back in her mouth.

A few thrusts, and he was moaning again, another few, and his cock was twitching between Futaba's cheeks. She felt his pulse pounding, and fresh waves of pre surged from his slit, coating her mouth in sticky-slipperiness. His legs began to tremble, and she rested her palms against his thighs, digging in with her fingers, entranced by the way his tendons tensed up under her touch.

Suddenly, Tae was at her side, crouching with her. "He's going to blow, isn't he?"

"Mmhmm!"

"Swallow his cum," she whispered, "or take it on your face. He loves both."

Futaba couldn't really respond in any meaningful manner, but she took the advice to heart. A few moments later, Akira came with a half-shout, half gasp, and his dick leapt in Futaba's mouth. For a moment, it felt like it had doubled in size. Then, the first wave of his jizz came flooding out of him, and Futaba was totally unprepared for it's volume. At first she tried to swallow, and almost succeeded, but by the time she was done glutching down the thick, sticky mess the next load was on its way. Running low on oxygen, she took an involuntary breath, and ended up inhaling half of it down the wrong pipe. For the second time that night, she fell back coughing, just in time to get the last few splashes right across her face, from the top of her lip, over her cheek and up into her hair.

"Bleh," she said, trying to wipe herself clean. At least didn’t have her glasses on, or, for that matter, hadn’t gotten any in her eye.

"Heh. Sorry," said Akira, but the lascivious air of his gaze as he took in her bejizzed features suggested he wasn't really that sorry.

Tae found a handkerchief in her pocket and handed it to Futaba, who took it gratefully and cleaned herself up as best she could.

"So how'd I do?" she asked Akira.

"Amazing," he said, reaching down to help her to her feet. She took his hand, stood, and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him in for a kiss. Her heart beat a little faster as she realised how much of her bare skin was in contact with his, but she was getting used to the strangeness of it. She had did just have his cock in her mouth, after all.

"Well now," said Tae, when they'd finished. Futaba tipped her head to look at her. While they'd been distracted, she'd stripped off. Futaba couldn't help but feel a surge of jealousy at the sight of her breasts, which were luscious and buoyant, topped with big dark nipples. Likewise, her hips were about double the width of Futaba's own. But then, she reasoned, the fact that Tae had those curves just meant she could enjoy them too.

"I think," Tae continued, after she'd given Futaba the chance to ogle her, "you owe Futaba a good time, Akira."

"Right," he said, and she felt his hand on her thigh, sneaking in between her legs. She gasped as he cupped her mound, running a single finger down her crease. "And I think she's ready for it."

"I am, but are you?" she asked, nodding down at his sagging cock which, to be fair, was gamely making the attempt to rise back up again.

"Got any boner pills stashed away, Doc?" she said, turning to Tae again.

"It's a tempting thought, said Tae, "but he doesn't need them quite yet. Just some time, and-" her lips curled in a wry smile "-some attention."

Tae and Futaba guided Akira over to the bed, where he laid himself down. Futaba settled herself to one side of him, while Tae took the other. They each wrapped a hand around his semi-hard cock and, with infinite care, nursed him back to complete and impressive hardness.

That done, Akira sat up and took Futaba's hands in his, looking into her eyes. "You really sure? This is how you want to..."

"Pop my cherry? Pluck my flower? Burn the ol’ v-card? Yep. Why?"

"Well, it's not exactly romantic. And we'll have someone watching."

"I can go away if that's what you want, Futaba," said Tae, patting her back.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I've waited too long. You're here, I'm here, that's romantic enough. And," she said, to Tae, "I want you here too. I...hated how jealous I felt when I found out you were with Akira. I need to know that's not a part of me."

"An unorthodox method of self-discovery," Tae said. But I think I understand. And I'm honoured you'd let me be a part of this. Thank you."

"Well, me and Akira know all about unorthodox methods of self-discovery, don't we?" She and Akira shared a secretive smile.

"So what's one more?" he said, and planted a kiss on her lips.

Akira turned Futaba towards the headboard and laid her down on the sheets. She settled back, parting her legs slowly and lasciviously. Strings of her nectar adhered to her thighs and her petals. She watched Akira reach down and sunder each one with his forefinger, before he placed two fingers either side of her mound and spread it wide open. She whimpered as cool air hit her sensitive inner membranes. 

"We’re really doing this, huh?” she said. Akira positioned himself over her, crawling up the length of her body on hands and knees. He ducked down, took her nipple into his mouth, and she gasped through her teeth, arching against him as he swished his tongue around it. Keeping it clasped between his lips, he pulled back until it popped out from between them, leaving it shining with his saliva. Scooting up the final few inches, he brought himself face to face with Futaba.

"We’re really doing this,” he said. Just like in her fantasy, he gazed down at her, eyes locked with hers, blazing with passion for her.

He lowered himself again to kiss her, driving his tongue deep into her mouth, and she reciprocated, claiming him as he claimed her. Moving away from her lips, he nibbled at her jawline, then went onto her neck, sucking the tender skin there, drawing it up against his teeth, hard enough that she felt it, hard enough that she knew she might have to cover a mark tomorrow. In turn, she let her hands rove over his chest, over his pecs and his nipples. She played with them the way he had with hers, even essaying the occasional pinch and tug, making him whimper with excitement.

Akira's cock began to graze Futaba's pussy, more than once, and, she was sure, not by accident. Even such brief, incidental contact filled her with tight little shivers, and she whined for more. She thrust her hips up against Akira's, showing him her need. Gradually, he rested more of himself upon her, bearing her down onto the sheets, and ground his cock against her slit. Each slow rub made Futaba moan, each brush against her clit made her squeal and yell and push her head back amongst the pillows. Every part of Akira: lips, loins, fingers, and everything he did with them just made her hornier, more desperate for that final moment of connection. She wanted to have his prick buried inside her, both of then a part of each other. Tired of his teasing, she reached down and grabbed his dick, perhaps a little harder then she'd intended. He stifled a yelp.

"Stick. It. In." she said.

"Okay, okay," said Akira, wincing. "But I'm going to go slowly at first, got it?"

"Got it."

He pulled back, dragging the tip of his cock down her lips, smearing it in Futaba's abundant juices. Her petals were as puffy as they could be by now, holding themselves open in anticipation, and, her hand still wrapped firmly around his shaft, Futaba felt Akira's cockhead bump against her hole and lodge there. Letting go, she draped her arm over his back, bit her lip, and shut her eyes.

Slowly, excruciatingly slowly, Akira slid his cock into Futaba's pussy. Groaning, she stretched around him, nerves flaring and discharging, reporting urgent messages about the sheer size of this new intruder. He was bigger than her fingers, that was certain, bigger even than any of her toys. She'd expected some pain, and prepared herself for it, but to her surprise she was so wet and ready that there was none. Just that blissful tension, the sensation of being filled to her very limit and no further.

Keeping his promise, almost to a fault, Akira kept on penetrating Futaba with the utmost care. It could only have taken half a minute or so, but to Futaba it felt like hours. His prick slid along her walls at a glacial pace. She cried out when his tip pressed against her g-spot for a sweet second, pleasure blossoming in her, then that was gone, leaving only the dull ache of need.

"Hurry, hurry," she muttered, rocking against him, but he just,stroked her hair and kissed her brow, soothing her while making absolutely sure she could take him.

She could. At last Akira bottomed out, balls resting against her butt.

"It fit," Futaba said. She could hear the disbelief in her own voice.

"Told you," said Tae, from somewhere behind Akira's heck.

"How does it feel?" Akira asked.

"Amazing." Futaba clenched down, rippling her walls around his bulk. Each undulation sent a thrill through her, and she squirmed under him, ready for more.

As carefully as he'd entered her, Akira drew back. Futaba clutched at his back, sorely missing his cock's presence in her deepest parts, but with the withdrawal came the promise of another thrust. A promise Akira fulfilled. He was harder this time, faster, perhaps at the limit of his ability to control his lust. Futaba, eager to spur him on reared up, kissed his shoulder, while she slid her hand down his back and slapped his arse, curving her fingers into the muscles there. 

Akira upped his pace, building a steady rhythm. The bursts of bliss his strokes produced in Futaba now came one after the other, each ready to replace the preceding one just as it faded away, so that her pleasure came in swift rolling waves, never too faint or too overpowering

"Yes!" Futaba yelled, squeezing her eyes shut once more. She flung up her legs, folded them around his waist, grinding against him with all her might. She wanted to be an active lover, to show him how good he made her feel. Besides, she decided, as he slapped against her over and over, sweat building on both their bodies, it was just more fun that way. She loved how he felt against her, warm and solid, loved his mouth on her lips and neck and collarbone, loved how his hands explored her whole body, groping whatever part of her he felt like. He gripped her  
bum, fingers sliding in between her cheeks, coming perilously close to her arsehole (and oh, didn't she just want him to go a little further). He squeezed her breasts, massaging them like a pro, rolling her nipples back and forth, then, anticipating Futaba's wants, sank his nails into her skin. Futaba, who'd long since discovered the joys of pinching her own tits during her solo sessions, he let out a slow hiss, the spikes of pain adding spice to their passion. In turn, the next time her mouth was at his shoulder, she bit down, just hard enough to leave a faint bruise. He growled, and for a moment, drove himself harder into her quim, those waves of pleasure cresting higher  
and faster.

Futaba's awareness expanded to include the sounds of their lovemaking: Akira's musical moans, her own pants and squeals, the wet, filthy sounds of his prick churning her juices. Above that, she realised, there was another urgent shlicking, and peering round Akira, she saw Tae at the end of her bed, legs akimbo, her head thrown back and her mouth open. She had one hand cupping her breast and another feverishly flickering at her cunt, fingers flying so fast that little droplets of her wetness were splashing out onto the covers. Her eyes flashed open, boring straight into Futaba's, and Futaba almost yelped. Tae winked, brought her juice-smothered hand up to her mouth and fastidiously licked each finger clean before she returned them to her pussy. Futaba gulped.

"You're so fucking hot," she muttered.

"You too," Akira whispered to her.

"Uh, right."

Her unintended compliment must have stirred something in Akira. Making the bed creak like a clipper in a gale, he drove himself into Futaba with ever greater ferocity. She found herself moaning uncontrollably, her world tumbling, tumultuous, a riot of scent, sound, sensuality. She felt every inch of his cock when it was inside her, even more so than when he'd first filled her, and she adored the way she could tighten herself around it, magnifying her delight as he pushed in and pulled out. He'd angled himself perfectly too, and her eyes practically rolled up inside her head when the tip of his prick ground against her sweet spot. Her pleasure pooled as a tension in her belly and her limbs, pulsing inside her, biding its time until it reached its critical mass and burst from her.

There was just one thing missing, one itch that wasn't heing scratched. A moment's self-analysis, fighting past the many (so very many) distractions, and Futaba knew what it was. A small part of her, but one that shouted for attention. Her clit was tight in its hood, begging to be touched. Akira's dick brushed it occasionally, but it needed something far more solid. Futaba obliged.

Slipping her hand between her body and Akira's, immersing it in their sweat and combined heat, she felt around until she found her bud. Pinching it very lightly, through its protective membrane, she marvelled at how hard it was, how swollen. And then she started to rub, rolling its hood up and down, even daring to touch its exposed, juice-soaked tip, jerking her fingertip away when the stimulation became unbearable. She knew she wouldn't be able to stop until she came, so there was nothing for it but to cling to Akira with one arm and jill herself with the other. 

Futaba had experimented with edging before. She'd gotten quite good at stopping at the point of no return. This time, with Akira's cock grinding away inside her, with her fingers hammering her poor abused button, she blew right past it and didn't look back. Through the event horizon of climax she fell, feeling it snatch at her with its inexorable gravity. All she could do was struggle against it. She clenched down so hard that Akira gasped, her walls burning with friction, her whole body quivering. She held herself, poised, hips trembling off the bed, letting the inevitable orgasm build and build and-

Release.

Futaba's scream was wild, joyful, made shrill and loud by the spasms wracking her body. For sure, she'd had orgasms as physically powerful before, but never one like this, one that bonded her in love and pleasure to another human being. She held Akira as tightly as she could, pulling his full weight down onto her. He moaned against her ear and she felt him trembling, close to the edge himself.

"I-it's okay," she said, gasping. "Cum in me."

He uttered a grateful, exhausted whine. Febrilely, his hips slapped hers a few few times, a shout gathering in his throat, and as Futaba felt his prick pulse within her he let it out, joining her in her exultations. His cum flooded into her, his balls apparently still filled with huge reserves even after her blowjob. After a few pumps she felt it drooling from her entrance in great hot gobbets, rolling down the crack of her arse, and she could have sworn that its presence in her triggered another mini-climax.

And then they were done, sweaty, spent, for now. If Futaba hadn't been before, now she was sure that she loved this man, and that they'd barely plumbed the depths of her passion for him.

Abruptly, with a sudden burst of post-orgasmic energy, Akira sat up, pulling Futaba with him. His cock slipped out of her with another rush of his seed, and she climbed into his lap, neither caring about the mess they'd made. She took his face between his hands, leaned in, kissed him fiercely, while he wrapped her in his arms and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I'm gonna need more of that," she said to him, once they'd parted. 

Akira gave her a lopsided grin. "Sure. You're pretty wild when you cum, aren't you?"

She thumped his shoulder. "Shut up! It's only cos you made me wait this long."

"Well, you can have anything you want from me from now on. But...are you done for tonight?" 

"Mweheheh. Not a chance. Besides, I want to see what you can do with her."

They turned to look at Tae, who smiled at them and waved a sticky hand. 

"I think you really have bitten off more than you can chew," she said to Akira. "Sure you can satisfy two women?"

"Why don't we find out?" he said.

"Mmmm." Languorously, Tae leaned forward and dropped to all fours. Breasts swaying below her, she crawled towards the centre of the bed. 

Futaba squiggled out of Akira's lap and shifted over to Tae's previous position. "All yours," she said. 

"All ours," replied Tae. 

Either Akira and Tae didn't go in for foreplay, or for Tae, watching Futaba get fucked had been foreplay enough. Tae's pussy, pink, pert and shining between her thighs certainly looked ready. Futaba was tempted to dive in there and find out what eating muff was like, but she restrained herself and watched, her hand idly drifting down between her own legs. 

It took Akira a couple more minutes to get his cock hard again. He clapped his hands down on Tae's thick arse, setting her cheeks jiggling, then spread them wide apart, digging his fingers deep into her yielding flesh. Fascinated, Futaba leaned to the side and caught a glimpse of the dark, puckered indent of Tae's butthole, just before Akira slapped his semi right down the middle of her crack and obscured it.

Tae gasped as he squeezed her buttocks back together, sandwiching his dick between them. He began to rut, slowly at first, then faster as his cock hardened up and he was able to put more pressure behind it. Lubricated by sweat, the remnants of his cum and Futaba's juices, he humped Tae's crack until he was fully erect once more. Futaba almost expected him to fuck his makeshift onahole until he came, but Tae was thrusting back against him, arching her back, making it very clear what she wanted. Akira released her butt, shifting his hands up to her waist, withdrew his dick from between her buttocks and pulled back, aiming his cockhead at her pussy.

When Akira thrust, Tae's shout echoed around the room. No slow penetration for her, no constant check-ins. It was obvious she could take it, and that she wasn't in the mood to wait. Akira instantly launched into a succession of rapid thrusts, ramming himself against Tae's rear with all the force he could muster. Futaba was almost jealous though she was grateful to him for making her first time so pleasant.

Nevertheless, it was fascinating to see the things Akira did with Tae's body, and how she responded to them. Not long after he first took her, Akira flattened himself out across Tae's back, reached between her legs and grabbed hold of her clit, rubbing and pinching it even more ferociously than Futaba would have dared to with her own. A volley of deep, throaty squeals escaped Tae, and balancing on one hand, she herself reared back to grab Akira's arse, digging in her nails until livid red crescents formed on his skin. He snarled an animalistic growl, one that made Futaba's insides quiver, raised his hand and brought it down on Tae's bum with a resounding smack. He lifted it, struck again, and again, and Futaba saw the blazing red handprints form on Tae's cheek. At last, his swats made her relent, but not before she'd left long scratches down his flank.

Abandoning her bottom, Akira grabbed one of Tae's breasts and squeezed, crushing it until it bulged out between his fingers. Tae screamed, but there was a word in there: "More!”, and Akira gladly obliged. He grabbed her other tit by the nipple and yanked it down, stretching it until Tae wailed, then let go. It bounced back up, resuming its hanging torpedo shaped beneath her.

Akira pounded Tae so thoroughly that her arms gave out, and she was forced to drop from her hands to her elbows and forearms, burying her face in the pillows and moaning into them. As if in compensation, she raised her behind even higher, the tendons in her thighs quivering as she rocked back against Akira. That lasted for all of two minutes before she shoved herself back up, rearing into a kneeling position. He moved with her, angling his hips so he was thrusting up rather than forwards, while rising to his knees. He caught Tae in a full-nelson, arms locked beneath her armpits, supporting her and being supported as she clutched at his sides.

In this position, Akira fucked Tae until she was screaming for release, while he pressed his face into the crook of her shoulder and uttered longing, drawn-out groans of his own. At last Tae shuddered, shouted, and Akira gasped out his own climax. Futaba watched as his arse went taut and his balls jerked themselves up against his pelvis, throbbing as he pumped cum into Tae's cunt.

Akira let Tae’s arms go, and she slumped into a crouch, panting. Akira sat down next to her, curling his legs beneath himself.

"Whew,” said Tae. "Showing off for your girlfriend...impressive.”

"I wasn’t showing off!”

"Yes you were. And speaking of, how did Futaba enjoy our little show?" They faced her, and Futaba swallowed. 

"I think she liked it," Akira said, motioning towards her legs. 

Futaba looked down and turned an immediate red. There was a wet spot the size of a CD on the sheets beneath her, and it was still spreading, her pussy dripping a steady stream of wetness and leftover cum. Her eyes felt sore too, like they sometimes did when she was staring down a really interesting coding problem and forgot to blink.

"I want that," she said, hoarsely, her vocal chords seeming to have ossified. 

"You want...?" Akira asked. 

"F-for you to be rough with me! Like you were with Tae."

He smiled. "Well, if you're ready...I suppose I've got another one in me."

"A suggestion," said Tae, curling her arm around Akira and taking hold of his drooping cock to begin the process of bringing it back to life. Not to be outdone, Futaba closed her own hand around it, matching Tae's strokes. 

"You should ride him first, Futaba," Tae continued. "You can set your pace, then let him take over."

Futaba nodded. "Sounds good. How about it, Akira?" She already knew the answer; she'd felt the rush of blood in his prick, the throb as it quickened beneath her hand. 

"Sounds good," he echoed.

Very soon, his prick hardened again, and he laid back. Tae resumed her position at the foot of the bed and Futaba stationed herself in front of Akira. A frisson ran through her at the sight of him sprawled out beneath her, all ripe and ready for the taking, and she decided that it was something she'd have to explore in future. For now, though, she lowered herself, letting her body uncoil behind her, bringing her head down to his groin.

She licked Akira's cock, slowly, from balls to tip, savouring the taste of herself and him and Tae, all mingled together in one musky, heady melange. Reaching his head, she popped it into her mouth and sucked at it until a bead of his dwindling precum graced her tongue. She swilled it around her mouth until it vanished, then proceeded up his body, crawling against him and kissing him as he'd done to her. When she reached her face, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth with unbridled passion. Resting her weight on him, her pussy met his prick, and she ached to have it fill her again. Parting from their kiss, wriggling free of his arms, Futaba sat up.

She rocked her hips a couple of times, loving the way her quim slid along his cock, how she could use its sheer bulk to part her petals and have it grind against her sensitive inner parts.

"You're so hot," Akira murmured, his eyes closed. Futaba wondered what sense he meant it in. Probably both. She put her hand down near her crotch, palm towards it, and felt her own warmth radiating off her. 

"Take as long as you need,” he added. Futaba didn't need very long at all. She grabbed the base of his dick, pointed it upright, raised herself on her knees and went down, hovering over his cockhead. Crouching a little more, she let it brush past her lips, sinking it into herself until it was lodged firmly against her opening. Futaba bit her lip and let herself drop.

This time, there was a little stab of pain as she took too much too quickly. She squeaked, but before she could even really register it, it was fading away. On top of that, it spurred her to push herself up, then, as Akira's cock slid out of her and her walls throbbed at its absence, force herself back down.

Akira held out his hands to her, palms up, fingers spread, and she took hold of them, lacing her own fingers between his. With him supporting her she began to bounce, riding his cock up and down, a pleasant burn growing in her thighs and calves and she pushed herself onwards. She felt Akira's hips jerking beneath her, clearly wanting to thrust up, but he was keeping them under control, letting her set the pace. When her legs got too tired she switched from bouncing to rocking back and forth, bending his cock around inside her. It pressed up hard against her g-spot, and ecstasy erupted within her. She squealed, leaping up again and slamming back down, grinding his head and his shaft against that ultra-sensitive part of her walls.

Futaba slumped forward, leaning as far over Akira as she could, pumping backwards against him. He slipped his fingers out of hers, guided her hands to the sheets and let her rest there, while he reached up and took hold of her breasts, rolling and squeezing them, adding to her store of pleasure with deft flicks and pinches at her nipples. Reluctantly, he let go of them when she  
reared up again. She began to fuck him as fast as she dared, her juices splashing out of her, soaking her mound and his crotch. She planted her hands on his chest and dug in her nails, bit her lip, rutted against him until her legs screamed at her.

"This is..." she gasped. "This is it. Take over!"

She leapt off Akira and he didn't say a word. He just lunged up, grabbed her, flipped her onto her back and wrestled her down to the mattress. He grabbed her ankles, yanked her legs up into the air and rested them on his shoulders. Futaba felt the friction burn on her back as he dragged her across the sheets. screamed as he rammed his prick back into her, hips colliding with her thighs with a resounding smack.

Futaba buried the back of her head into the pillows, screwed her eyes shut, let the heat and pleasure and animalistic urges overtake her. Akira had his arms wrapped tight around her thighs, holding her fast while his cock sawed in and out of her cunt, and her core trembled with the exertion of keeping her arse up in the air. Akira's moans grew louder, his thrusts grew harder, each impact jolting her entire body. She howled until her voice nearly gave out, completely abandoned, and alternately gathered the blanket up into great fistfuls or clawed at the parts of Akira she could reach, desperate to feel as much of him as she could. He obliged her, leaning forward so that his torso rested along her legs, bending them back, pushing them down into her body. Futaba found she was quite a bit more flexible than she'd thought. She gripped Akira's shoulders and held on for dear life while he pile-drivered himself against her, forcing seismic shockwaves of bliss through her being.

Close now. Close to a powerﬁul, soul-quaking orgasm. Both of them, Futaba knew, teetering on the edge of exhaustion, their fibres overwhelmed by the demands of their desire, sweat pouring from their overheated skins, throats ragged with their yells.

"'taba!" Akira said, his eyes suddenly locked with hers. She saw his pupils dilate, a moment before her own vision whited out and her eyelids shut tight.

She was vaguely aware she was screaming his name. It didn't matter. In that moment, the entirety of her awareness was focused inwards, on the uncontrolled energy rippling out from her loins. Her walls undulated ceaselessly around Akira's cock, milking him of the last dregs of his cum, and when a wet warmth flowered within her, she knew she'd been successful.

Futaba fall back, gasping, quivering, her senses slowly coming back to her. After a few moments, she managed to peel open her eyelids. Akira's face hovered in front of her, hazy and indistinct. She wondered whether she was still recovering, then remembered that she wasn't wearing her glasses. Blinking a couple of times, she squinted, and his flushed features swam into vague focus. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, and glossy clumps of his hair clung to it. Reaching up, brushing at her cheeks, Futaba found strands of hers sticking to them too. She blew at a particularly persistent lock, tugging it away from her mouth.

Akira's lips, were parted in a pant, and then, as he dropped down to her, a kiss. She returned it as passionately as she could, both of them breaking off frequently to gasp for more air, strings of saliva connecting their mouths. In the middle of their clinch, they rolled onto their sides, Akira's cock drooping from Futaba's pussy. She clutched at herself, trying to keep their mess inside her and avoid soaking the sheets more then they already were, but it was a futile endeavour. His cum oozed out between her fingers, sticky, hot, and pungent. The next time they broke their kiss, she sighed, raised her hand to her mouth and licked it clean.

"Thank you," Futaba said to Akira, when she eventually felt like speaking. She raised herself up on her elbow and peered over at Tae, who watched them benignly from her perch.

"And Doc?" Futaba continued, "I haven't forgotten about you. Thank you too.”

Tae smiled, flipped her an ironic salute. "Any time," she said.

"Come here?" Futaba asked her.

Tae nodded, and Akira and Futaba shifted over, making space for her to lie at Futaba's side, opposite from Akira. Futaba felt them press in either side of her, and decided she could get used to being sandwiched between two warm bodies at night.

"So," she said, "what do you think about keeping this whole situation going?”

"I'm game if the both of you are," Tae said.

"I'm cool with it," said Akira.

"Yup. Me too " said Futaba. And...there's things girls can do together, right?"

Tae smirked at her, wickedly, and ran the point of her tongue along her bottom lip. "There certainly is."

"I wanna try 'em."

Akira rested a possessive hand on her hip. "Hey, I'm not being edged out here, am I?"

"No, dummy," Futaba said with a laugh. She rolled over to face him, kissed his cheek. "I love you."

"Love you too."

"And...” She yawned. "Oh boy. Sleepy now. Futaba need recharge.” The adrenaline and endorphins were wearing off, and in rolled the bone-deep exhaustion she felt whenever she'd really overexerted herself.

"It's been a day, huh?" Akira said, stroking her hair.

"Sure has," she said, her voice fading. She blinked, her eyes heavy. Suddenly they shot open. "Oh crap! The bugs! I meant to get rid of them tonight."

"Don't worry about it," said Akira, soothingly.

"Maybe leave them in," Tae suggested. "Sometimes it’s good to be overheard.”

"Yeah...maybe.” Reassured, Futaba's panic abated. Tiredness returned. Her bedmates snuggled up against her, kissing her, cuddling her, Akira drew up the covers.

Futaba's eyes slipped shut. Her last thought that night was that a wonderful morning awaited her.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to B (http://bsnaughtyartcollection.tumblr.com/) for this one! Follow me at geistygeist.tumblr.com for more.


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